Nineteen Minutes Later
by pjb
Summary: A one shot featuring Harry & Ginny mainly and focusing on events that happened after the conclusion of the Battle of Hogwarts, before the epilogue of Deathly Hallows. My first fanfic...constructive comments and reviews are appreciated!


_08212007: I'd like to thank the reviewers so far, two in particular:  
Ginny Guera, who noted that the old statue in the Atrium was called the 'Magical Brethren,' not the Founders.  
blackolives10, who pointed out that I'd committed the same sin most of the Wizarding World committed daily by overlooking House Elves and forgetting to write anything about Dobby at the end of the story (which I'd meant to do!). Apologies to Dobby fans; please don't call SPEW!  
_

_Just a oneshot about what could have happened after the last chapter of DH, prior to the epilogue. Obviously I don't own Harry Potter (and the first little blurb is clearly JK Rowling's...only quoted to give a frame of reference!) or I'd prob ably have better things to be doing right now...but since I don't...enjoy. I appreciate comments, since I generally consider all of my work to be in a perpetual draft stage. Flames, however, will be filed in /dev/null where they belong. On that note..._

**Nineteen Minutes Later**

"That wand's more trouble than it's worth," said Harry. "And quite honestly," he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."¹

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At any other time in his tenure at Hogwarts (minus exams), the silence that Harry discovered in the Gryffindor Common Room would have alarmed and even upset him, but right now he reveled in it. The portrait closed behind him, drowning out the sounds from t he Great Hall below and seemed to seal the flow of energy away from the young wizard. He slumped lower as he walked up the stairs to the dormitory. Harry's eyes were closed even before he reached his bed, and he all but collapsed onto it as his knees hit the frame. The literal savior of the magical world sank into the mattress and closed his eyes, desperately seeking sleep.

_Remus..._  
_Tonks..._  
_Colin..._  
_Fred..._

Some Savior...

He swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his head deeper into the pillow as if to bury the emotion he could feel trying to push its way out of his chest. _'Not now,'_ he thought desperately, _'let me sleep first..'_ But he found that as he kept his eyes closed, all he could see were the faces of his lost friends, his Godfather, and his parents. Harry turned on his back and swallowed hard, forcing the emotions back down into his chest stubbornly as thoughts of what those below might be thinking came unbidden into his mind.

How could he go back down there and face them—Andromeda Tonks, Charlie, Bill, George, Ron, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley...Ginny—after he'd been the cause of their loved ones' deaths? How would he ever look at his Godson, Teddy, knowing he was the reason the boy was orphaned? He swallowed again, eyes closing as he desperately fought to think of something—anything!--that could take his mind away from that single truth.

A familiar **CLACK** of the portrait from the Common Room below caused him to sit up on his bed and eye the staircase that led from the bed chamber. Likely Ron and Hermione had come up to check on him. He was, to say the least, shocked to see the red head of Molly Weasley coming up the stairs into the Boys' Dormitory instead of his two best friends. He stood hastily, nearly falling out of the bed in the process and regarded the woman as she climbed the stairs slowly but steadily.

Harry felt a stab of guilt in his gut, and swallowed hard yet again, "Mrs. Weasley," he said as steadily as he could, his voice a strange mixture of relief and dread over seeing her.

"Harry." she responded with an equally unsteady voice, looking him up and down as she tended to do when worrying. Her hair was disheveled, sticking up and out in random directions, and her face was red, eyes swollen from tears and grief. The younger wizard endured her scrutiny, and an awkward silence ensued between them before he once again opened his mouth. "I..." he trailed off, looking down at the floor.

_'I'm sorry.'_ his mind screamed as he looked up at her. His mouth opened, but all that came out was "Mum..." in a soft, pain-filled whisper.

Whatever else he had been trying to say to her was drowned out in a strangled cry, and he turned away from her, unable to face the woman whose son he'd all but killed by...well, just by being him. He felt his legs giving out as the grief, guilt, and emotion he'd managed to keep bottled up started to leak out. Harry felt tears run down his face, leaving trails before they fell to the floor and he sank to the floor slowly as if his body were chasing after them.

A pair of hands—strong but gentle—scooped him up then and directed him back towards his bed. Molly sat down next to him and pulled him to her, wrapping Harry in a fierce hug made entirely of raw emotion. Harry wanted to pull away, wanted to hide from her until he could apologize properly, but all he could find himself doing was holding onto her tighter. "But...but..." he tried to speak, to get the words out for her to hear, but they would not come. He fumbled for them, tears running more freely down his face and onto her shoulder.

"But nothing, Harry Potter," Molly said, her voice stern despite the anguish he could tell was filling her, "You've done all you could do, more than anyone should have ever had to do. You will_ not _blame yourself for the aftermath. We don't...son." her voice trailed off and she hugged the boy tightly again, her own tears getting the best of her.

Harry pulled away and looked at her. He swallowed, fully ready to tell her how wrong she was, and how sorry he was for letting Fred die. But once again, his voice betrayed him and all he heard himself saying was, "I couldn't...I couldn't..."

Molly pulled him back to her, hugging him with one hand while the other stroked his ever-messy hair soothingly, "We know you couldn't, son. We know. Let it go now, Harry. Let it out now." Her voice was ragged and she sniffled as she tried to fend off another bout of her own sobs. Hearing her use the word 'son' only caused Harry to cry harder into her shoulder. He tried without success to find his voice, and the more he tried, the more Molly Weasley consoled him, and the more he lost himself to grief that he'd long bottled up.

And for the first time in nearly eighteen years, The-Boy-Who-Lived got to experience what it meant to have a mother by his side.

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Harry didn't remember falling asleep. Apparently he had at some point, for he awoke later in the day to find himself staring up at the canopy of the four-poster. The light was streaming brightly into the windows of the dormitory, and the young wizard squinted as he rose and took the steps down to the Common Room, rubbing his eyes and wondering what time it was.

Ron and Hermione were asleep on one of the couches. Modesty and decorum seemed to have been thrown by the wayside in the wake of the battle (and 'seizing the moment'), for the lanky redhead was sprawled on the couch with his other best friend laying on top of him. Ron's arms were wrapped around Hermione protectively, and the witch's head was nestled under his chin. Both of them slept soundly, their breathing even and their expressions calm and relaxed. Harry regarded them for a few long seconds, smiling at the realization that the battle was over, and his two best friends would have the time to explore their relationship...one that had been a long time coming in everyone's eyes! Harry shook his head, his smile growing at the though of the new couple as he turned to quietly exit the Common Room and find something to eat. His eyes slid over the other couch, and that was when he saw her.

She was there.

Ginny.

She was asleep as well, curled up in a small ball under a light blanket. Unlike her brother and Hermione, the youngest Weasley did not seem to be at peace; her face was tight and drawn, as if she were having a nightmare, or had not wanted to fall asleep. Harry's smile faded a bit, and he thought back to that moment when he'd left the castle to face Voldemort and, so he thought, die. He swallowed, sitting down gently on the edge of the sofa near her and remembering how he saw Ginny in the battle and how much he'd wanted to go to her. Harry closed his eyes a moment, swallowing hard again as guilt rose up within him; he knew Ginny had been there when Voldemort presented his 'dead' body to the castle's defenders. He'd made the right choice, done what needed to be done, though it had pained him beyond belief to make that choice. He knew Ginny had been hurt by it as well; part of him was terrified to speak to her, for Harry was afraid that she would never forgive him.

Despite his worries, the wizard reached out towards Ginny with one hand and ran his fingers over the side of her face lightly, brushing some errant strands of her hair back behind her ear. She stirred, taking in a deep breath and shifting on the couch. Ginny's eyes fluttered open and she looked up into Harry's green eyes as he gave her a small, hesitant smile.

"Harry..." she said, her voice uncertain, as if she wasn't entirely convinced he was there next to her.

"Hi, Gin." he said quietly as she sat up.

**SLAP!!!**

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Whomever first coined the phrase 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' had clearly encountered women of the Weasley family in his lifetime. Having the ire of a Weasley woman directed at one's self was bad enough, but to have two Weasley women angry at one another was certainly a sign of the Apocalypse. Unfortunately, that was the scene outside of the portrait to the Gryffindor Common Room that morning, after Harry had disappeared into it earlier. Ginny Weasley had seen Harry come down from the Headmaster's Office and vanish amidst the swirl of comings, goings, and chaotic emotions in the Great Hall. Her heart and stomach clenched as she saw him; he was alive and breathing, but she could not get the image of his lifeless body, sprawled on the grounds outside the castle, out of her mind. Ginny was certain that she'd remember that scene for the rest of her life.

She looked down at her hands and the table, swallowing hard and focusing on the swirl of emotions that writhed within her. In one complete instant, she was so relieved that he'd defeated You-Know-Who, that he'd won the battle and lived to tell the tale. And at the same time, she was so incredibly furious with Harry; she hadn't believed for an instant Voldemort's claim that Harry had fled the castle—she suspected that no one within Hogwart's walls had believed it. She knew him better than that, and knew he'd gone off to face his fate head-on...and he'd done so without a single word to her. Without saying goodbye to her.

Ginny sat for a long time at the table in the Great Hall, wrestling with herself and her emotions before getting up and making her way to the portrait of the Fat Lady, quite intent on facing Harry and telling him...telling him...well she wasn't quite sure what she was going to tell him! She arrived at the portrait in time to see her mother descending from Gryffindor Tower. Ginny watched as the portrait closed and her mother said something to the Fat Lady that the girl couldn't quite hear, then jumped as she saw her daughter standing there.

"Ginny!" Molly said, her voice a bit raw, "What are you doing up here, dear?" she continued as she wiped her eyes—which were puffy and red once more—with one hand.

"I...I wanted to talk to Harry," Ginny said to her mother. Her own voice was thick, a combination of her thoughts of Harry and a thousand memories of Fred rushing through her mind as she looked at Molly.

"Not now, dear." Mrs. Weasley said firmly, "He just fell asleep, and the poor boy needs rest. He's been through a lot..."

Ginny's face reddened in anger at her mother's words. At any other point in time she could have been rational about this, but not now, when she was emotionally ragged. "What about the rest of us, Mum!?" she snapped, "We've _all_ been through a lot! I saw him _dead_, Mum!! I need to see him alive, now!" tears were spilling down her face, but they didn't seem to faze Molly Weasley, whose face was also reddening.

"You'll leave that boy alone, Ginevra Weasley!" she snapped right back at her daughter. Having just spent an hour with Harry as the boy cried years of grief out on her shoulder before finally falling asleep, she was not about to let anyone wake him up. She knew her daughter was hurting, and she _did_ need to speak to Harry, but it needed to wait a little longer, until he had gotten some rest. Until they had both gotten some rest.

"I'm going in there, Mum, whether you say so or not!" Ginny all but screamed at her mother. Her hand twitched towards her back pocket, where her wand was stowed, but she didn't pull it. Angry as she was, Ginny Weasley was not ready to try and hex her own mother. Instead, she glowered at the older woman, who endured her gaze and returned one just as stony.

"You'll do no such thing, Ginevra," Molly said flatly, "I've repaired the spells to the Boys' Dormitory and changed the password to the portrait. Harry will come down when he's rested and ready, and _then_ you can talk to him!"

Ginny's face turned an even deeper shade of red, and she felt tears of frustration and anger spilling down her face, "Let me in there, Mum!!" she shrieked angrily, oblivious to the two pairs of feet that were stepping up to the Portrait behind her.

"What the bloody hell is going on up here?" Ron shouted at his sister and mother, causing Ginny to spin around and glare at him with such ferocity that the older boy's eyes widened and he backed up a step, into Hermione.

"Ronald! Language!!" his mother snapped, glaring at him as well. Ron took another step back, pushing Hermione with him once more.

"So now you're both going to be hacked off at me instead of each other??" he said to both Weasley women, his own face reddening with indignance, "What is going on up here? We could hear you screaming at each other down in the Great Hall!"

"She won't let me go up to see Harry!" Ginny yelled loudly, turning an accusatory glare back towards her mother.

"He just fell asleep! You're not waking him up!" Molly countered with an equally loud voice. Ron swallowed, staring from his sister to his mother and wishing he were somewhere safer, like the Forbidden Forest. Hermione rolled her eyes, and stepped in front of Ron.

"Ginny, your mother is right. He needs to sleep." she said, holding her hand up to silence the protest she saw coming from the younger girl, "But we'll wait for him with you. We all want to see him, Ginny; he owes us some answers, but it's not fair to barrage him before he can rest, is it?"

Ginny glared daggers at Hermione for a long moment, but eventually she sighed and looked at the floor. As always, Hermione was right, but that did nothing to quell the girl's frustration, "Fine." she huffed angrily, looking away from the pair and back to her mother, "But we're waiting for him in the Common Room!"

Molly's lips drew into a thin line as she considered it, then she turned to the Fat Lady and said, "Sacrifice." with a quiet whisper. The portrait swung open silently, and she looked back at the three teens, "No one else comes up, and you wait for him to wake up on his own. So help me, Ronald Weasley, if you go up into that Dormitory or make one sound to wake him up, I'll...I'll--"

"We understand, Mum." Ron said flatly, taking a step towards his Mother. "We'll wait for him in the Common Room. You should go back down to the Great Hall...there are people here...people to deal with...to take Fred." He fell silent and winced as his mother flinched visibly before clamping her jaw shut. She nodded and pushed past her children and Hermione and down the stairs before they could see a new wave of tears streaming down her face.

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, her frustration turning to sorrow as her mother descended to see to her brother's body. She felt a strong arm wrap around her shoulder and looked up to see Ron hugging her to him. She noted his eyes as he looked down at her with a sad smile and saw unspilled tears that threatened to betray his brave demeanor.

"C'mon," he said, his voice thick and somewhat strained as he hugged both girls to him and led them into the portrait-hole, "Let's go wait for Harry."

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They sat in silence for a long time in the Common Room—Ron and Hermione on one couch, and Ginny on the other—staring at the fire in the hearth that blazed healthily, but did not overheat the room despite the warmer weather outside. Finally, Ron couldn't stand it anymore; he shook his head and smiled sadly before saying, "Remember when Fred and George put that swamp in the hallway our Fifth Year?"

Ginny laughed genuinely, relieved that she could still remember how to do that after the past few months. She nodded and joined Ron in retelling some tales from their childhood, as much for Hermione's sake as their own. Each tale's conclusion brought a round of laughter from the three teens, but every so often, Ginny would let her eyes shift to the Boys' Dormitory staircase, hoping every time she did so she'd see Harry descending the stairs. It did not come to pass, however, and before long she felt her own eyes getting heavy. Ron and Hermione's voices faded and she shifted unconsciously to lay down on the couch, her eyes fighting to open every so often to look at the staircase again.

"..wake her up.." Hermione was scolding Ron. It was OK, though; she didn't want to fall asleep, she wanted to see Harry when he woke up.

"...just putting a blanket..." Ron sounded very far away. Then she was covered with a light blanket, and felt a hand brushing her hair back from her head.

"...get some sleep..." Hermione always did have great ideas. Ginny murmured her thanks (though to her two friends it was unintelligible) and drifted off, her thoughts fading to dreams of Harry, and Quidditch, of that wonderful moment in this very room where she and Harry had kissed for the first time. She grimaced in her sleep as she dreamed then of that moment at Dumbledore's, when he told her he could not be with her...it shifted then, to that dread moment when she'd looked down and saw his body on the ground...

Even in her sleep Ginny's stomach and heart clenched as her mind relived the scene, albeit disjointedly. She shifted again on the couch, drawing her mouth into a tight, thin line, until she felt a light touch across her face. A hand was brushing her hair from her face, and pulling her out of her dreams slowly. Ginny's eyes opened slowly, and first focused on the couch across from her, where Ron and Hermione had fallen asleep in each other's arms. She blinked again and looked upwards, heart still racing from her dream image of Harry's death.

He was there.

Harry.

Alive, breathing, and looking down at her with clear green eyes. She blinked again, her lower lip trembling a bit as she tried to find her voice. After what seemed an eternity of staring up at him in silence, she uttered his name hesitantly, "Harry..."

"Hi, Gin." he said quietly. She stared in silence up at him, and then suddenly all she could see was his body on the grounds, those same green eyes closed in death. She sat up suddenly, her eyes filling with tears rapidly as her face reddened with fury. She was barely aware of raising her arm, reaching back, and striking Harry clear across his face with the palm of her hand.

**SLAP!!!**

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"You bloody prat!!"

Harry reeled from the force of Ginny's slap. His head jerked and his glasses flew from his face, clattering to the floor even as the sound of skin on skin cracked through the air of the Common Room. Ron's eyes snapped open and he jumped, nearly tossing Hermione off of him as he uttered a curse and saw his sister and Harry across from them, his best friend's face reddening quickly where she'd struck him.

"Bloody hell Ginny!" he bellowed as both he and Hermione stood up and stared at her, "Have you lost your mind??"

"Shut up and sod off!" she spat back at her brother, her face red and her eyes puffy. Hermione gasped and even Ron—who easily had the worst mouth of the four of them—looked with shock at her. Harry rubbed his face gingerly, and looked over at the blur that was Hermione, his eyes slightly unfocused but pleading with her. She nodded, grabbing Ron's arm and pulling him along with her.

"Ron...Ronald, come on...they need a moment alone." she said softly, pulling the taller wizard along with her. Ron looked at Hermione, then over at Ginny and Harry, and nodded almost imperceptibly, letting her drag him away towards the stairs that led out of the portrait. As the picture of the Fat Lady closed, he could clearly be heard uttering "...mental..." before the staircase sealed itself completely, leaving the two Gryffindors alone on the couch, staring at each other.

Harry looked at the blur of pale skin and red hair that sat across from him. He could hear her breathing heavily, sniffling, fighting to keep the emotional storm within her from exploding. The wizard closed his eyes and lowered his head, murmuring, "I suppose I deserved that from you."

_'No, you didn't.' _the little voice in her head whispered, but it was drowned out by anger. Deep down, Ginny knew she was angry with Voldemort, not Harry; but Voldemort was dead, Harry was here in front of her, and the Weasley temper needed an outlet. She knew she was being selfish, knew that redirecting her anger at him was irrational and unfair, but she couldn't help it and she didn't care.

"How could you..?" she said through clenched teeth, tears spilling down her face, "We all were here, fighting for you...I was fighting for you...and you...and you...you..." she broke down, unable to verbalize his actions and resorted to punching at his chest in an effort to vent her anguish. Harry felt his chest and throat tighten as a wave of sadness and guilt washed over him. Ginny hit him once, twice, a third time, and he let her before he snatched her hands and pulled her to him, hugging her tightly. Ginny continued to hit him with her fist, but the blows became less and less forceful with each strike until she was reduced to sobbing in his embrace.

Harry held her while she cried, feeling tears run down his own face. Her pain was palpable, and it made the boy's heart ache, but underneath that was a twinge of anger. Did she think he'd _wanted _to walk to his death? That he'd wanted to leave everything and everyone he'd loved to let Voldemort kill him?_ 'No, she doesn't believe that.' _he knew she was angry and frustrated—just as he had been—over how unfair the situation had been. Harry closed his eyes and hugged Ginny to him tighter, exhaling his own anger with a shuddering sigh. He would not apologize for what he'd done; but he would not be angry at her either.

It was a long time before Ginny quieted somewhat, and he found enough of his voice to say to her quietly, "Ginny...I...I had to. It was the only way..."

"What do you mean, 'the only way'?" she sniffled and pulled away from him, her brown eyes red-rimmed and puffy.

He sighed, reaching out and murmuring _"Accio!"_ to retrieve his glasses, which snapped to his hand immediately. He donned them and blinked twice as she came into focus, then began the tale of the Horcruxes, and what he found in Severus Snape's memories. He explained to her Dumbledore's suspicions, causing her to gasp and put a hand to her mouth.

"A Horcrux...you?" she repeated with a whisper, as if she was afraid to even utter the word.

"That's what Dumbledore suspected...and it made sense. It's why I was connected to Voldemort, why I had slivers of his powers." Harry confirmed, "When he killed my parents, and tried to kill me...he accidentally made me his seventh Horcrux. He didn't know, but I did. I knew he'd be able to come back if...if I was still alive." He continued, explaining the Resurrection Stone, his other-worldly meeting with Dumbledore, and the unexpected aid from Narcissa Malfoy that cause his return to the castle.

"I saw you when I left." he said, his voice quieter now and filled with pain, "And I saw only you when he fired the Curse at me. You were...my last thought." Ginny let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and stared at him, eyes shimmering again as fresh tears spilled down her face.

Harry reached up to brush a tear away from her eye with his thumb, while his other hand clasped one of hers tightly. "Dumbledore once said to me that we all had to make a choice between doing what was right, and what was easy." he said as he stared into her eyes, "To make sure he couldn't come back, to give someone a chance of killing him off for good, to give you peace...that was the right choice. But to have walked past you out there, Gin, without...without saying goodbye, or that...I love you...that was the hardest thing I'll ever do in my life--"

"--just shut up." she interrupted, her eyes closing as her heart swelled in her chest. Unless she'd misheard, Harry Potter had just stated that staring death in the face was easier than not telling her he loved her. "Just shut up," she repeated as her voice cracked, "and kiss me."

Harry needed no further prompting, but leaned forward and planted his lips on hers softly. His arms wrapped around her waist, hers around his neck, and it was several moments before they pulled away, each left with the taste of the others tears and lips on their own. Harry smiled to her through his tears, and said, "I promise you, Ginny, I'll never let another opportunity to say 'I love you' pass me by. If it takes the rest of my life, I'll prove that to you."

Ginny laughed and sniffled, running one hand through his hair, "Careful, Potter...I might hold you to that promise." Harry laughed as well, wiping away another tear, "Fair enough, Weasley. For now, though, I think we should find Ron and Hermione. They...they need to know what happened as well."

She nodded, standing up from the couch and clasping his hand tightly, "And, Ron probably thinks I've hexed you into next week by now."

"That too." he replied, standing as well and tugging her behind him towards the stairs to the portrait. He owed his best friends an explanation. And after that, there was much work to be done.

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The next two weeks passed with a surreal quality to them that Harry could not fully describe to anyone, including himself. He and Ginny had found Ron and Hermione, who listened with the same looks of horrified resignation that Harry's girlfriend displayed as the Boy-Who-Lived retold the events of the Forbidden Forest. When the tale was told, and the tears had dried, Harry had made them promise not to tell others about the events of that night. They, he explained, were his best friends, his loved ones, and he knew they would need to know what prompted him to apparently abandon them. What everyone else thought or did not think, believed or refused to believe didn't really matter to Harry so long as they knew what his reasons were, and why he'd done what he did. The three had promised immediately and Harry felt his mind settle a bit, allowing him to focus on the tasks that they all knew lay ahead.

Repairs had begun on Hogwarts, and though the walls could be easily mended, and the wards and spells recast, it would take a longer time for the human wounds to heal and for normalcy to reign once more. McGonagall, reinstated as Headmistress by unanimous vote of what remained of the Governors, had publicly vowed that the school would be open on September the First for all students, and no one on the grounds wanted to be the cause of failing such a symbolic milestone.

Harry busied himself with helping around the castle, his first task working with others to repair the damage his arch-nemesis had inflicted on Dumbledore's tomb. Once that was completed, he bounced from chore to chore, helping Hagrid retrieve the creatures that'd been loosed or scattered about the grounds during the year, or helping Professor Flitwick remove some of the booby traps they'd found strewn about the castle.

In between chores, Harry occupied his time with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. The three worked on projects at the Castle, and bounced back to the Burrow to help Ron and Ginny's parents with the upkeep of their own house, which had fallen into neglect over the course of the year with everyone running about on Order business and fleeing the Death Eaters. Molly was, of course, mortified at the state of the house; gnomes had built a veritable empire in the garden and the ghoul that'd been placed into Ron's room to mask his absence from Hogwart's had gotten so thoroughly comfortable in its new room that it took the efforts of the eldest and youngest Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione to uproot the creature and put it back in the attic where it belonged.

Harry was coming inside after winning a gnome-tossing contest against Ron one day when Mrs. Weasley grabbed him and pulled him aside, saying she had something she wished him to see. She directed the younger boy to the corner of the Burrow that contained the Family clock. Harry swallowed, seeing Fred's hand had been removed and mounted into the wood above the face. His breath caught in his throat as he saw that a new hand was mounted to the face; it bore his name, and currently pointed to 'Home.' He looked from the clock over to Mrs. Weasley, who just smiled and pulled the teen into one of her hugs. No words were exchanged between them; after what had been said in Gryffindor Tower days earlier, nothing else needed to be said.

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At the end of the third week after the Battle of Hogwarts, as it was rapidly becoming known across the Wizarding World, Harry found himself in his dress robes at the Ministry of Magic, along with Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys, as well as Hagrid, Andromeda Tonks—with baby Teddy in tow—McGonagall, Flitwick, most of the Hogwart's faculty and staff, and many other faces he didn't recognize immediately. He was genuinely surprised to see the three Malfoys sitting in the back row, but did not point them out to anyone else.

They sat in the Atrium of the Ministry, off to the side of what had once been the Fountain of the Magical Brethren but was now a mass covered in a large white cloth. As Kingsley Shacklebolt, the interim Minister of Magic had ascended the podium in front of the covered mass, Hermione leaned over to Harry and whispered "What do you suppose this is about?" as the crowd began to hush itself.

"A memorial service, I suspect." he replied quietly to her, mindful that Ginny was sitting on the other side of him, and Ron next to Hermione. He turned and looked then as Kingsley cleared his throat, causing the whispers to die down and two hundred pairs of eyes to focus on him.

"I am not a man that has made word-smithing his career, nor am I long-winded," he started, eyes panning across the crowd, "but there are things that must be said, affairs that must be set in order, and honors to be paid so that the dead may rest in peace, and the living may move on."

Harry felt Ginny's hand clasp around his, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze as he reached out with his other hand and clasped Hermione's. No one looked anywhere but ahead at Shacklebolt, who continued, "Many of you probably expected Mr. Harry Potter to be standing here, giving a speech about the events of three weeks ago. To that, I say that Mr. Potter has given enough to the Wizarding World; none of us have any right to ask any more of him after giving 18 years of his life and twice defeating the darkest threat our peoples have ever encountered. Instead, we give something back to him." Kingsley smiled, a scroll appearing in his hand.

Ginny, Hermione, and Ron all leaned over to look at Harry, who shrugged and shook his head a bit. The Minister unrolled the parchment and read clearly, "Be it known that by Decree of the Ministry of Magic, all charges against Sirius Black, having been wrongfully accused of the deaths of Peter Pettigrew and numerous Muggles are hereby stricken from the Record."

Cheers were thrown from the audience, and many stood and applauded. Harry stood slowly, his eyes wide. He was so overcome with shock he barely felt Ginny's kiss on his cheek, Hermione's hug, or Ron's good-natured slap on the back. He stared at Kingsley, smiling and trying not to cry as he mouthed the words 'Thank you' to the Minister, who nodded in reply and raised a hand to bring the crowd to silence again.

Kingsley continued after a hush came over the assembly once more, "Mr. Potter has given us much, but he was not alone. Three weeks ago, many brave people fought and died for what was right, for justice, and to give others the chance to live. I think I can safely speak for Mr. Potter and the Ministry when I say that their sacrifice should never be forgotten." He turned and produced his wand, firing four small bolts of fire that struck the ties of the white cloth, which dropped to the ground slowly and revealed the new centerpiece of the Atrium.

The hideous 'Magic is Might' sculpture that graced the atrium during Voldemort's occupation of the Ministry had been replaced with a series of white marble statues that brought gasps from the crowd in part to the presentation but mainly because of their lifelike representations. There stood Albus Dumbledore, just as he might have stood before giving his start-of-year speech to the students of Hogwarts. To his right, Alastor Moody stood constantly vigilant over the Atrium, one hand on his walking stick and the other on the shoulder of his protegė Nymphadora Tonks, who in turn clasped hands with her husband, Remus Lupin. To Dumbledore's left, Severus Snape regarded the crowd with a cool demeanor and what could have been a ghost of a smile on his thin face. Next to him, arms folded and sporting a confident grin was Sirius Black himself, upon whose shoulder perched Hedwig, Harry's owl. Colin Creevey, camera around his neck, smiled triumphantly, as if he'd gotten the photo of the decade, and to his left, grinning as mischievously as if he'd just let a dung bomb loose in the Ministry, stood Fred Weasley. In front of them all was a shorter statue of Dobby, a smile on his face and his arms spread as if to welcome everyone to the new Ministry and a new era.

A large bronze plaque stood at the base of the monument, with letters engraved upon it in what appeared to be magical fire that swirled mysteriously. The letters formed words that glowed brightly, allowing everyone assembled to read the inscription.

_For Those Who Made the Ultimate Sacrifice  
and Chose Righteousness and Justice Above All Else_

_Sirius Black  
Colin Creevey  
Dobby the House Elf  
Albus Dumbledore  
Remus Lupin  
Alastor Moody  
Severus Snape  
Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin  
Fred Weasley_

_We Are Forever in Your Debt_

Cheers and applause erupted from the crowed once more, and this time Kingsley did not silence it. Harry stood up, clapping loudly as he felt a proud smile coming to his face. He heard Ginny give an 'oh' and reached out to hug her to him. They turned, seeing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who were both overcome at the display, being hugged and supported by Percy, Bill and Fleur, and Charlie. Ginny looked at him, tears of joy in her eyes and said something quietly to him before moving over to George and giving him a hug. Fred's twin hugged her tightly, but his eyes never left the statue of his brother. Harry turned again before being enveloped in a hug by both Hermione and Ron.

The three stood quietly amidst the clatter of the Atrium, looking up at the monument in their own silent reverence until Ron finally said, "At least they got Fred's good side." Harry and Hermione couldn't help it; the two burst out laughing at the other boy's comment. Ron blinked at them, and then joined in their laughter, knowing that the very last thing his brother would want was for humor to die with him.

Harry turned as he saw Andromeda Tonks making her way to the podium with Dennis Creevey and his parents to have a word with Shacklebolt. The older woman was without her grandson, causing the wizard to look around somewhat frantically until he spied the baby in Ginny's arms. He smiled, the sight of her holding a child protectively to her giving the wizard a warm feeling in his stomach and putting him at ease, as if he'd seen a glimpse of a bright future more certain than anything Trelawney had ever produced.

Ron clapped a hand on his shoulder, "C'mon mate," he said, Hermione on his other arm, "Let's go see Mum and Dad."

Harry Potter nodded, walking towards his love, his family, and his future as one hand strayed to the scar on his forehead. It did not twinge or hurt, but the skin around it was taut, as if it were finally healing.

All would be well.

**THE END**

¹Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, page 749


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